


i don’t wanna wait til the next life

by Katraa



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Fluff, Hotsuweek 2018, I’m so sorry, M/M, Mid-Canon, Mutual Pining, Sloppy Makeouts, This gets really cheesy, Triangulum Arc, explicit content, handjob, we dont know, what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: While learning that your very existence was being ripped apart, shredded, destroyed, was jarring as all hell, learning that one of your most trusted and intriguing comrades was gone was infinitely worse.  It stung in all new ways.  Wounds Hibiki hadn’t felt in years positively ached. So he was determined to fix it, to find him, to save him.DURING TRI-ARC PWP





	i don’t wanna wait til the next life

**Author's Note:**

> hotsuweek begins!!!  
> and work has finally calmed down for now  
> closing four deals in a month is not advisable.  
> don’t do it folks.  
> but now we return to your regularly scheduled smut.

Over the span of a couple of weeks Hibiki has managed to do _a lot_ of stupid things. Sneaking around JP’s, slaughtering demons, fighting for the sake of humanity and placing his faith in a ragtag bunch of strangers? Each had its own unique level of danger associated with it. Before this, Hibiki never was reckless. Sure, he sometimes dozed in class and didn’t study for exams, but that was the extent of it. Now? Now danger was his middle name, which sounded like a fantastic joke, but admittedly wasn’t. 

And maybe that affinity for danger was what led to the corruption of his data. Really, it was funny that he hadn’t noticed until someone brought it up. True, he never felt particularly _well_ during battle but he just attributed that to adrenaline and exhaustion. Never had Hibiki imagined he was falling apart, piece by piece, molecule by molecule. He was blinking out of existence - like a spool of thread coming undone. It sucked. 

They had all gone through one week of hell and what good had come of it? A new set of memories and another disaster at their doorstep? It wasn’t fair. Hibiki wasn’t one to dwell or dawdle - especially given the prevalence of demons - but there were a few moments those first few days (or were they nearing the double digits now?) that he wanted to cry. 

But he couldn’t. Boys didn’t cry and leaders didn’t show weakness. 

While learning that your very existence was being ripped apart, shredded, destroyed, was jarring as all hell, learning that one of your most trusted and intriguing comrades was _gone_ was infinitely worse. It stung in all new ways. Wounds Hibiki hadn’t felt in years positively ached. 

So he was determined to fix it, to find him, to save him and show him the world he had been deprived of. 

And maybe Hibiki spent way too much of his free time in this second world - third world? - thinking about that last sidelong glance Yamato shot him. Maybe he spent hours laying in his stupid cot parsing it out - those heavy grey eyes, the twist of his lips, the brush of fingertips against the small of his back and the breath through his lips telling him, “I look forward to a world created by you, Hibiki.” 

No one had ever paid him that much attention. Daichi had always been there, always defended him, but Daichi was his best friend. Daichi didn’t seemingly worship the ground he walked on. It was new and it was nice and a fucking thrill. It was dangerous and like a live wire Hibiki wanted to touch it just to see how it’d feel. 

So when his phone buzzes at three in the morning, he knows what it is before even looking. Even before he opens the app and the clip, he knows what face he’ll see, he knows what voice he’ll hear hitch, sucking in its last breath. He knew where he was and why but by god he didn’t want to wait to get there. Didn’t want to wait until morning to go with the others - and now he was being proven correct. 

Hibiki darts out of his bed, throwing on his pants and hoodie, fumbling out of the hideout they’ve been calling home to Jp’s. His steps echo louder than usual in the empty Nagoya branch as he proceeds to the lab. 

And naturally Fumi is already there. A true nocturnal being by nature, she sits at her laptop and flicks her gaze up. Unreadable. 

“That took longer than I expected,” she drawls. “Heavy sleeper?”

“Pants,” Hibiki explains, out of breath and clutching his phone with a vice grip. “I had to put on pants.”

“Geez, save the dirty talk for the Chief. I don’t want to hear it,” Fumi says as her fingers fly over the keyboard. “And yeah, I know what you’re going to ask. You’re going to play hero and go by yourself. Right here. Right now.”

“He’s about to die!” Hibiki says, on edge and by god he’s panicking. 

“...Yeah. And it’s the middle of the night.” Her expression drops. “By the time we rally the troops...”

“So I want you to send me now. I know it isn’t perfect but damn it, Fumi, please? For me?” Hibiki’s shoulders fall and he looks positively pathetic, face drained of color. 

“This is dumb. And reckless. Even for you,” she points out. “I haven’t finished testing it.”

“I don’t care,” Hibiki interjects. “I’m willing to risk it. I’ll risk it just please — send me there.”

“This is bad,” Fumi mumbles and pinches the bridge of her nose. “All right. But if he has my head after this, I’m blaming you.”

“Go right ahead. At least he’ll be alive,” Hibiki answers and his hands fidget as he glances towards the terminal. “I don’t want to waste anymore time. Send me now. Please.”

“Mhmmm. Buckle up, kid.”

* * * 

It was as if he was in a video-game. One of those retro games where a pixelated sword was all you had and a Princess awaited you in a high tower. He could almost hear the bubbly soundtrack. Except this was real-life and there was no Princess. Though Hibiki did hazard to think that Yamato would make for a very dashing and very formidable Princess. Minus the sharp stare and penchant for calling everyone around him trash. So maybe a foul-mouthed Princess. At best.

The air was stagnant. It was as if every ounce of life had been squeezed out of this area and all that remained was a vacuum-like area that resembled a room of mirrors and uncertainty. Hibiki hated it. A chill stole down his spine as he stepped forward. His steps were hesitant, afraid that one misstep would lead to a never-ending drop. This totally sucked. 

His grip on his phone tightened. If there were demons here he’d be ready. The app was his only solace in this wasteland. Tentatively, he continued forward on the narrow, glowing path until he came across what could only be described as a sentient blob. Christ, it looked like something straight out of an American, cheesy horror-flick; he would know. 

“Byakko...!” 

Hibiki wastes no time summoning the large beast that easily swipes the blob away. A quick glance down at his phone confirms it’s a shard, but everything else about it is blacked out. Question marks. Errors. Whatever this thing is exists outside of the app and the compendium. That ... probably isn’t good?

Hibiki calls back Byakko and continues onward. The temperature is still as stale as before and Hibiki’s mortified that if he breathes too quickly, too deeply, he’ll deplete the remaining oxygen in this cell. A cell - that’s exactly what this inhuman place feels like. 

It doesn’t take Hibiki too long to turn a corner and spot on a platform a good hundred yards or so away the very person he had come all this way for. Yamato is surrounded by those eerie blobs and he looks _exhausted_. Hibiki is thrust back to their battle, to their terrible blood-filled duel back before they defeated Polaris, where it seemed as if Yamato would rather die than concede. To give up on his meritocracy. The feeling makes Hibiki’s stomach bottom-out. 

“Yamato!” Hibiki shouts, the air rushing out of his lungs. 

_he’s safe he’s safe he’s alive he really exists everything is going to be okay because Yamato is here and i cant do this. there’s too many. i can’t do this._

It’s a terrible onslaught of emotions. Dread, anxiety, adrenaline. Hibiki barely catches Yamato’s gaze as it flicks away from the shards towards him. There’s recognition in those eyes. And by god those eyes are soft and there’s relief and surprise and something Hibiki’s never quite seen before. 

“Do not tell me you are alone,” Yamato says loudly enough from his perch, grousing, as he has Cerberus slam another shard down into the ground. 

“That’s no way to speak to a hero,” Hibiki jokes because it’s all he _can_ do. 

Feeling spontaneous, Hibiki summons Byakko once more and throws his leg over the back of the beast. With as much grace as the moment affords, he straddles the back of the large beast and commands it to dart forward. Up and up the ramps they go, jumping over a small valley of nothingness to reach the landing Yamato has made a home of. Once there, Hibiki almost sprains his ankle jumping off Byakko in anticipation. 

“Yamato-“ he begins again with a relief that floods his soul. 

“Hibiki, behind you,” Yamato snaps, now rid of his coat, his sharp eyes narrowed and phone angled to behind Hibiki.

As expected, there’s a shard. It’s glowing and it’s almost certainly about to electrify him. Hibiki lets out an undignified noise, scrambling to reach for his phone before it’s too late. It’d be such a shame to end it here. He’s come so far and everyone is waiting and hoping and -

The moment never comes. Yamato grabs him painfully tight and Byakko absorbs the blow of the blob. Byakko disappears in a shimmer and Yamato’s arm is tucked around Hibiki’s waist, holding him tight to his chest. 

“How the tables have turned,” says Yamato with an almost delighted trill to his voice despite the absolute exhaustion. 

“Oh shut up,” is all Hibiki murmurs as he activates the app once more and sends Sarasvati out to heal them both and deflect some blows. It’s enough for Cerberus to recover and put an end to the array of shards surrounding them. 

“Irritating trash,” Yamato grumbles as he twists his wrist and Cerberus disappears in a familiar burst of flames. 

“Tell me about it.”

The relief is imminent. Yamato is safe and strong and _here_. The death clip was avoided and he’s sweaty and without his usual coat but by god he’s safe. He’s alive. Hibiki goes slack against him and drops the back of his head hard against his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been fighting those things alone. I barely could handle four and I’m tired to the bone,” Hibiki laments as he closes his eyes and grows comfortable with the way Yamato’s chest rises and falls behind him. 

“I can see that. I would hate to think that you’ve begun to grow sluggish.”

“Sluggish,” Hibiki repeats, tone aghast as he whirls his head back to stare up at him. “That’s a low blow.”

“Would slothful be more palatable?”

“Not at all.” 

Hibiki snorts and he meets Yamato’s tired gaze. A myriad of emotions hit him at once and all he can manage to breathe out is, “...Arcturus. We can’t stop Arcturus.”

Yamato grimaces at the name. “Ugh. That cretin,” he mutters and he fixes his gaze on a far away spot of the Stratum. “I am not surprised.”

“We can’t do damage to it and I just... We can’t lose. Not now,” Hibiki says resolutely, his hands going slack against Yamato’s forearms. He’s turned himself around at this point and is staring at the taller with determination. “We need your help. Please come back with me.”

“...That’s impossible,” Yamato says with a touch of hesitation. 

“Wha— no. Why?” demands Hibiki as his grip reawakens. “I was able to get here and now we can leave. Together.” 

“I came here to mend and protect your data. That accursed trash is eating it alive. It is why you did not exist in that second world.” His eyes are sharp and there’s a fierce rage Hibiki knows all too well. “...But it seems as if it has been working. You are here.”

That’s a lot to swallow. Yes, he knew about his lack of existence in that so called second world but for Yamato to proclaim he came here to _fix it_...

“Yamato, you didn’t exist. You don’t exist,” Hibiki rambles and he shakes him by the forearms. “You didn’t exist and I thought the Triangulum had managed to erase you.”

“Tch... please,” Yamato murmurs with a nose wrinkle. “I willingly wrote myself out of existence to stay here and fix your data.”

Hibiki shivers. There’s a resolute look to Yamato’s eyes and it just makes it all the more monumental. Hibiki sucks in a shaky breath and then gives Yamato another wild shake. 

“Then come back with me. See? You fixed me. I’m breathing. I’m alive and I’m not leaving until you come back and fight that ironing board beside me.”

“Ironing...” Yamato finally chuckles, the sound warm and his eyes sliding shut. “...It’s risky. But if we able to stop the invasion then your data will be safe from harm.”

“See? Piece of cake.” Hibiki finally lets him go and attempts the weakest smile. “So you’ll come back with me, right? Even though the world is going to shit and we’re all about to be burned alive?”

Yamato scowls at the reminder. “Yes,” he finally acquiesces and blinks open his eyes. “If that is your wish, to fight alongside you once more, I would be a fool to decline.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hibiki laughs, the sound trembling. 

_yamato’s safe. yamato’s alive. he’s here he’s here he’s back and he’s smiling and a dork and clueless and and -_

Before Hibiki can swallow down the lump of nerves forming at the top of his throat, Yamato has already taken his phone and is activating their way home. He’s always been far better with technology than Hibiki. Hibiki almost stops him, almost tells him to stay here because right now, right here, only they exist and it’s been so long. It’s been so long and he’s missed him and Yamato looks so young and perfect and he _sacrificed himself for him_ and he wants to kiss the ever-living shit out of him. 

But it’s gone. Within seconds they’re back at the Terminal and Fumi is smiling wryly at them. 

“The whole gang’s back together,” she crows and lifts a hand. “Hey, Chief.”

“Kanno,” Yamato murmurs with a slow nod as he adjusts his tie restlessly. “Where are the others?”

“It’s two in the morning. I’m afraid they’re finally catching some rest,” she says and waves her hand around. “You know, you two probably should, too. Considering what we’re up against in the morning and all.”

Hibiki feels out of place. Out of his body. He begrudgingly steps away from the Terminal and drags a lazy hand back through his sweat-laden hair. 

“Yes. That is advisable.” It’s likely Yamato hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are heavy and his usually deft movements seem a bit stilted. 

“Text us if something changes?” Hibiki requests as he shoots Fumi a rather disorientated stare. 

“Hmmmm. Sure. I can text you,” she says, eyes sparkling. The plurality isn’t lost on her. 

Yamato leads the charge out of the room. Hibiki follows after like an obedient puppy. Honestly his mind is still spinning, still playing catch-up. Yamato’s alive. Yamato exists. Yamato is here and tired and grumpy and they’re probably going to get bombarded in the next hour or two by overjoyed and relieved shouts. The fact that there’s still a couple of hours scratches at his skin. It encourages and pushes him and Hibiki feels his mouth dry. 

But Yamato’s alive. Hibiki’s never felt so relieved about anything before and it makes his chest burn. Tomorrow they all may die at the hand of Arcturus. Tomorrow they may burn to death and this may all be for naught. But by god Yamato is here right now and —

And is abruptly stopping in the hallway and scowling with the most disgusted expression on his face. 

“Who is Miyako?” he asks, voice like ice and his hand on a doorknob that won’t budge. 

Oh. Right. “...Haha, can we talk about that tomorrow? It’s a really long story,” Hibiki admits, voice sounding so far away. 

Yamato looks annoyed but lets his hand slip from the metal. “All right,” he mutters, not looking pleased. “It would be foolish of me to decline a cot when I have made you all sleep there for over a week,” he sniffs, arms folding to his chest.

“Er... well.”

“What?”

“...So there’s a lot of us. And well. Usually you had an office? And there’s no other cots. I don’t think.”

Yamato’s expression falls. His brows pinch and he presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. “Of course,” he says as if he’s about to smite the god damn world. 

“Don’t worry.”

Hibiki tosses him a tired smile and he tips his head to the side. Yamato arches a thin brow but follows after Hibiki this time around. It’s the blind leading the blind. 

It isn’t far. Hibiki stops in front of a closed door and nudges it open with his foot. It’s just a normal room and there’s a lived-in cot in the corner. 

“...I don’t see how this solves the problem,” Yamato notes as he lingers in the doorway. 

Hibiki hurriedly cleans the scraps of clothing flung around the room from earlier that night. His room had turned into quite the mess after that clip hit his phone. Rightfully so. 

“It solves the problem,” explains Hibiki as he gestures to the now clean cot. “We can share. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Yamato looks as if Hibiki’s sprouted two heads. 

“I know you’re not used to - uh - subpar accommodations. Or sharing. But I promise it’s not too bad. I don’t kick or sleepwalk. Or even sleeptalk!”

“Thank heavens for that,” Yamato says with another sniff as he closes the door to the room and lifts another brow at Hibiki who is sitting on the edge of the bed. “We will hardly fit.”

“Yamato Hotsuin. Are you calling me fat?” Hibiki presses a hand to his chest, eyes wide and feigning insult. He accordingly drops back down on the bed and scoots as close as he can to the wall. 

“Ah. That’s right. You’re scrawny under that ridiculously large hoodie,” Yamato murmurs as his lips twist in a smirk. He sits down beside him and rubs the pads of his fingers into the corners of his eyes. He’s tired. 

“I told you I’d show you a normal life. Laying cramped in a bed is part of that good old life,” says Hibiki as he presses his palm gently to the small of Yamato’s clothed back. “Take off your tie and stay while?”

“Perhaps if you take off your shoes.” Yamato tosses Hibiki another smoldering look over his shoulder. 

“Wowwwww,” laughs Hibiki, delighted. “No one ever believes me when I tell them you’re funny as hell.”

“What a shame. I suppose my stint as a comedian will be over before it even starts,” Yamato says as his hand drops to Hibiki’s foot to start tugging off his sneakers one by one. “Do you even take pride in your appearance? These are falling apart.”

“You’re being so sassy, what gives?” Hibiki snorts and he wiggles his freed toes the first moment he can. 

“I am tired,” Yamato corrects and he tugs off his tie and tosses it down to the floor. 

There’s silence when Yamato finally lays beside him. His eyes are heavy and they shut seconds later. Shoulder to shoulder, without his coat, Yamato is painfully skinny. He’s all bone and lithe muscle. He doesn’t look half as terrifying without the boots and coat and Hibiki can’t stop stealing sidelong glances. He’s alive. He’s alive and right here in his bed. He’s breathing and his chest is rising and falling and despite living in the Stratum he smells like freshly fallen rain and his lips are partly chapped. 

“I’m sorry,” says Hibiki at last as his eyes fall shut. “For failing you and everyone else. I must have done something wrong when we reset the world. That’s why I wasn’t in that second world with you all. I’m so sorry you guys had to go through that and —“

Yamato’s hand is tight on his jaw. Hibiki stops talking immediately. Sharp, pale eyes snap open and shoot Hibiki an icy glare. Hibiki feels his gut bottom out. 

“Silence.”

“I’m sorry, you probably want to sleep, I-“

“Do not blame yourself for what happened. It was the fault of man. Humanity has failed us, and more importantly failed you, when the regression did not work,” Yamato says decisively, each and every word whispered harshly and poignantly. His fingers tighten on Hibiki’s jaw. “Do you understand? This world is far better than the one before it.”

“But-“

“Are you begrudging my sacrifice?” Yamato says and he lets go of Hibiki’s jaw in favor of flicking his forehead. “That is not like you. Accept that this world needs you and that you did nothing wrong.”

There’s a weight off his shoulders. Yamato’s changed. Yamato truly believes in the world, in the power of individuals. He doesn’t seem as sour, as bitter, as rough around the edges. He’s just _Yamato_. And he’s trying to comfort him. 

Hibiki smiles brighter and he finally shuts up. His eyes close and he rolls onto his side to press every inch, every curve, along Yamato. And good god he’s so warm. He’s so _comfortable_ and Hibiki never wants to leave. 

“And accept that I need you.”

Hibiki almost doesn’t catch that. He had been about to drift back to sleep, Yamato’s presence lulling him into comfort, but he’s jarred awake. The words slam into him like a sledgehammer and his eyes snap open. 

The world had been one thing. Yamato was decidedly another. 

Yamato is staring up at the ceiling, indecisive and lips pursed. He looks as if he’s struggling with something and it’s quite the rare sight. Hibiki wonders if Yamato thought he had already passed out. It certainly would explain a lot. 

“...Yamato,” Hibiki says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Pale eyes glance over at him, surprised, and that’s certainly confirmation that Yamato had assumed him asleep. He’s not alarmed, though, so that’s something. That’s definitely something. 

“Is something wrong?”

No. Not anymore. Not with you here. Not with you right here, right now and -

“I’m afraid to die. I didn’t even burn alive but I’m terrified we’re going to lose. I know that I shouldn’t, that it’s stupid to be afraid and so unlike me. But I’m afraid. I’m so afraid of that thing and the way I felt like I was suffocating just being near it.”

Yamato frowns but he doesn’t interrupt. 

“We beat God. Christ, why am I so afraid of this one? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re back finally and I don’t want to lose you again so soon.” Hibiki keeps rambling in a whisper, words he’d never say in front of the others lest he break their spirit and terrify them. The leader can never show fear. That’s just reckless. And yet — his tirade finally comes to an end and he whispers to his own chagrin, “And I’m going to die a virgin and that’s a stupid thing to worry about.”

Yamato blinks. And he blinks twice and thrice. His eyes migrate over to Hibiki and he watches him like a hawk. 

Hibiki feels his ear positively burn. “Just - sorry, rambling. That was really embarrassing.”

Yamato hasn’t looked away. His eyes drift down to where Hibiki’s small body is pressed against his side. Where Hibiki’s hand is curled against his ribs and how pretty his fingers are. 

“And I need you, too. I need you more than this stupid world needs you,” Hibiki says when he’s certain Yamato’s eyes aren’t boring holes into his own. “I’ve never needed anyone else. But I need you.”

Yamato’s lips curl up into the faintest smile. His eyes nearly sparkle, effervescent, and then he reaches across his own body to brush his ungloved hand down Hibiki’s arm and side and then back up to his jaw. “Hush. I am right here. Do not waste your breath on fears that won’t come into fruition.”

“Then what should I use my breath on instead?” Hibiki asks and his voice is trembling. 

Yamato chuckles and it’s warm as he shifts to lay on his side and face Hibiki. His pale eyes stare straight at him in the darkness and he lifts a brow at him. “I am not going to rest, am I?”

“...Nope,” Hibiki says decisively as his eyes drop to Yamato’s mouth. 

With a rush of unfounded courage he tips his head that much closer so that he can brush their lips together. It’s tentative. But it’s warm. There’s a soft rush of air that Hibiki can feel against his mouth and Yamato’s cheek against his, just barely touching, feels so _soft_. Hibiki could die happy. 

“Is this okay?” asks Hibiki, mouth still against Yamato’s. 

“...Yes,” Yamato answers finally and curls a hand up into Hibiki’s mess of curls. His fingers twirl into the strands and he tilts his head to kiss Hibiki back this time. 

It’s just as gentle, as slow, and he rubs his thumb against the back of Hibiki’s head. It’s positively electric. Shivers shoot down his spine and settle in the base of it, gathering into uncontrollable energy. It’s all Hibiki needs before he shifts to drag Yamato on top of him. Oh fucking god he feels so heavy, so warm, so _comfortable_.

“I’m going to crush you,” Yamato chuckles, amused, eyes cracking open to peer at the pretty and pale face below him. Bright blue eyes gaze back at him in wonder. 

“No? I’m not that fragile. You should know that by now.” Slowly, his hand drifts down the sharp contours of Yamato’s back and to the heavy fabric of his collar. His thumb presses along the seam and traces all the way down to his top button, to which he flicks. “I’m going to be bold here and ask if—“

Yamato cuts him off with another heavy chuckle. Before Hibiki can finish his long-winded request, Yamato shifts back, straddling Hibiki’s feverish body, and undoes the buttons to his oxford one by one. He hesitates at the last but then pushes the fabric away and shrugs the smooth cotton off his shoulders, allowing it to slip off almost dramatically. It’s cinematic, really. 

“Oh.” Hibiki’s face is painted scarlet as he strums his fingertips against Yamato’s hip. “So you’re a quick study. Well. Good!”

“It isn’t rocket science, Hibiki,” says Yamato with an utterly amused twist to his lips. He dips back down and presses his lips, warm and learning, to Hibiki’s temple. “I feel cheated, however.”

“What?” It’s a lot to maintain focus on the conversation. Even more so when blood is rushing south south south and Yamato is shirtless upon him. 

“This.” Annoyed, Yamato gives an incessant tug to the fabric clinging to Hibiki’s torso. It does the trick because Hibiki bends like a bow and it only takes a few seconds to tug the troublesome fabric up and over the forest of curls. 

“Crap, do you not turn on the heat in your guest quarters?” Hibiki chatters, barely able to squash the urge to hug his arms to his chest for warmth. 

“Most overnight guests wear some fashion of clothing to sleep,” murmurs Yamato. His lips find Hibiki’s jaw and linger, breath coming in heavy pants. “...There are blankets, if you are that cold.”

“I think I’ll make do,” Hibiki answers and shyly cocks his head to brush their lips together. Again, it’s like a dam breaking through, a positive surge of pent up emotions flooding through him like never before. His pulse quickens and he barely can stop the way he arches up against the lithe body above him. 

He wants to tell him that he almost pinned him against the translucent floor of the Stratum. He wants to tell him that finding a room alone together had been the best thing to happen to him all week. But all he can do is smile against Yamato’s mouth and hook his ankle precariously over Yamato’s to pivot their hips together. Yamato’s chest against his is like liquid fire - like transcending some other plane - and embarrassingly, his toes curl. Maybe Yamato is taking the dying to virgin gripe to heart. Hibiki can’t complain. 

Desperately, Hibiki wedges his hand between their hips and along the smooth but hard press of Yamato’s slacks. He can faintly feel the outline of his interest in the matter and it sends another inexplicable jolt of searing lust through him. Yamato is godly. That’s all there is it to it. 

“Hibiki...” Yamato says, almost warningly, hesitantly, eyes a narrow slit as he forces them open. 

“Trust me,” encourages Hibiki and he glides the edge of his palm along the contour of Yamato’s erection. 

It’s odd. It’s odd but so hot and he can’t believe that Yamato Hotsuin is interested in getting physical with him, of all people. He can’t believe how well-endowed he feels and how warm he is and how chiseled his chest is and by god -

“Hibiki...” Yamato breathes out again, this time heavier, more desperate, trembling. Hibiki can feel every muscle that’s pressed against him tense with anxious energy. It’s endearing. 

“Relax,” says Hibiki as he drags his hand up to the button of Yamato’s slacks. It takes him three seconds to undo it and curl his hand inside and down around the base beneath his underwear. And holy hell. Hell, Yamato is _warm_ and hard and it’s so different than touching himself in the darkness and safety of his own bedroom to nameless faces. Yamato is — so much more. He’s always been. 

There’s a noise that dies in Yamato’s throat. One moment he’s all tense and thick muscle and the next he’s spasming against Hibiki’s hold. It starts with the rhythmic roll of Yamato’s hips— the nearly mechanical roll of his hips. The next is the choked noise that slips out through the cracks of Yamato’s gritted teeth. Next? Next it’s the way Yamato grabs for Hibiki’s free hand to thrust his fingers in the lonesome gaps between his. It’s a perfect fit. Hibiki never expected otherwise. 

Hibiki’s hand curls into a tiny fist and drags up from the base to the tip. At first he’s worried about a lack of lubrication. It must chafe? But a few moments in and Yamato’s already eagerly leaking and it makes the glide of Hibiki’s small wrist so much smoother. And so much faster. It makes it easier to fist him tighter and jerk up faster. 

Yamato’s face is pressed down hard against Hibiki’s collarbone. There are clipped noises coming from him occasionally, but the biggest tell that he’s losing his absolute mind, coming undone, shattering that mask of cool indifference, is that he keeps squeezing Hibiki’s hand. He keeps holding onto it like it’s his only tie to reality. Or maybe there’s more to that. Hibiki desperately hopes so. 

It doesn’t take much to bring Yamato to the brink of pleasure. He feels Yamato seize up against him and then his hips jerk forward and up one last time. After that it’s warm and wet and Hibiki has never thought that getting something like that all over his hand would ever turn him on. But by gods does it. 

Yamato eventually comes down from his high. Everything had escalated so quickly and they had gone from curiously making out to getting off in record speed. But maybe that’s just the way things go. Maybe weeks of planning and pining and protecting the world warrants something like this. 

Hibiki retrieves his hand when he feels Yamato go limp. He drags the remnants on the fabric before resurfacing and then he sucks in a very tired, labored breath. 

“Wow,” is all Hibiki says, grinning ear to ear. 

Wow indeed. He just jerked off Chief Hotsuin. 

“Quiet,” Yamato orders, drowsily, body weak and lax on top of Hibiki. His arm is possessively curled around Hibiki’s tiny waist and his face is buried into the crook of Hibiki’s neck. His breathing is still heavy and his usually perfect hair is sweat-laden. It’s quite the sight. 

“You know I can’t do that,” laughs Hibiki, but does his best to whisper as he hugs Yamato all the tighter. Yamato is half on top of him and sure it’s hard to breathe but Hibiki has never felt safer. Warmer. Better. Even if they’re destined to fight an ironing board in the morning. 

“Then pretend,” says Yamato as he tightens his hold on Hibiki. 

“Mmkay.” 

Slowly, Hibiki drags the blankets up and over them both. He shifts just enough so that Yamato can share the pillow with him, even if Yamato insists on clinging to him like this like a barnacle. He’s probably boneless from the orgasm. Hibiki can’t blame him. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Hibiki whispers, hand drifting up to card through his hair. It’s unbelievably soft, even now, even after the throughs of passion. But that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. 

Yamato snorts, almost offended, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he tilts his head up just enough to peer at Hibiki’s face. “...Thank you,” is all he says. 

For the sex? For the bed? “I-“

“For believing in me and rescuing me when I was too proud to seek help, even if I had wanted to. You are truly one of a kind and someone I would swear to protect again and again,” Yamato yawns and he drops his head back down, eyes heavy. “So thank you for showing me that there is much more to this world than just being a Shadow.”

Hibiki’s heart soars and swells. His arm hugs Yamato tighter and he can’t help the affectionate kiss to the crown of his head. “I’ll keep showing you new things, then. I promise. Once this is all over, I’ll show you the world.”

“A pact, then.”

He’s never been more ready to swear himself to something before. “A pact. I promise.”

Because they’d make it through. Because he’d show Yamato just how important he was and how he deserved to embrace every facet of life. He’d show him the normal life and he’d do it at his side, hand clumsily threaded with his, smiling ear to ear, and heart filled with the warmest adoration. Because Yamato Hotsuin was cold and tough and calculated but above all else he sacrificed himself for Hibiki Kuze and no one could ever proclaim a love any deeper than that. Hibiki was certain.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not in love with this but let me know your thoughts?


End file.
